On Hedone's Swift Wings
by DictionaryWrites
Summary: It is Narcissa's sixth year at Hogwarts, and she has just been betrothed to her future husband, Lucius Malfoy, by his father and her own parents. While they cannot meet face to face, they write each other letters to know one another better. Epistolary. Lucissa.


September 1st, 1971  
Malfoy Manor,  
Bottlesford,  
Witlshire

Dearest Narcissa,

I cannot begin to tell you how strange it is to sit here at my desk, looking out upon the falling rain as the sun rises, and know that I shall not be boarding the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross Station come ten o'clock. I had given thought to being there to see you off this morning (I shall send this letter in the evening), but I worried such a thing might be embarrassing for you, our engagement being so sudden.

I regret much about our situation.

By no means, I assure you, am I disappointed by our match, but I only wish we might have met face-to-face before you returned to Hogwarts. This was a calculation made by my father and yours, I am certain, to keep us from potentially arguing against such a betrothal.

With that in mind… Narcissa, I will tell you now – quite honestly – that I have never spent hours awake at night, thinking of your face or your voice, or found myself bewitched by your charms. Many women, I am quite aware, desire true love from their future spouses, and while I do not consider myself undesirable, if you find me so, I will do my best to dissolve this betrothal to your benefit.

I have no wish for you to be forced into such a match if you have a better beau at Hogwarts: there are other options available to me if you would prefer another man, and you must think first and foremost of your own happiness.

If you would like to continue with our betrothal, as laid out by your parents and by my father, however, I should be honoured to view you as my wife to be. As you are entering your sixth year at Hogwarts, and it shall be nearly two years before you are free from these indentures, I would pledge to write you at least once per week, and ask that you do the same, that we might know each other better.

I know little of you except for our occasional conversations in corridors or at dinner, and if we are to be married, I would change that.

With the warmest regards on this chilly autumn day,  
Lucius A. Malfoy

✉ ✉ **ON HEDONE'S SWIFT WINGS** ✉ ✉

September 2nd, 1971  
Hogwarts Castle,  
Hogsmeade

Dear Lucius,

I cannot decide whether to be delighted or grievously offended. I take to one feeling in turns, and within the hour I am firmly on the side of the other. Were I a more vapid girl, surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam of my well-to-do friends, I might even subject them to a reading of your poisonous lines, that they might help me decide – you are lucky, it seems to me, that I so fondly look upon my solitude.

"Oh," my heart cries, "See how he thinks of your happiness, though you are not yet even well acquainted! See how he should sacrifice this match for you!" and yet, you shall be glad – or devastated – to know, I am not ruled by the petty concerns of my heart. Do you think me some thoughtless girl, in need of some Herakles to sweep her from her feet, and then murder her when the time is right?

I do not spare a thought for the fleeting infatuation you label love, and the ruin it would bring me.

We shall marry, Lucius, and but for my birthday, I shall set in stone that you are not to worry as to my "happiness" any further: as for your pledge, I shall readily accept your terms, and assent to them.

My regards,  
Narcissa Black

P.S. The beautiful creature that delivered this letter – is the owl yours, or does Malfoy Manor have its own owlery?

✉ ✉ **ON HEDONE'S SWIFT WINGS** ✉ ✉

September 4th, 1971  
Malfoy Manor,  
Bottlesford,  
Wiltshire

Dearest Narcissa,

Heretofore I had thought of you as so quiet, and yet I see now these silences of yours had been but a front for a powerful spirit. Offended, are you? Why then, you petulant flower, be so! I shall not apologize for having the grace as to think of your happiness, even if your heart does approve.

When is your birthday, then, I might inquire? And, Narcissa, as your humble servant, might I be permitted to think of your happiness at Christmas? At New Year's, perhaps? And what of St. Valentine's Day? If we are to be married, might I be allowed to consider your happiness on the occasion of our anniversary, or shall that be disallowed?

Very well, very well!

Have you affection for daffodils, Narcissa? From the family of Narcissae bloom a hundred wonderous flowers, and – perhaps it is your talk of Herakles – I find myself thinking on their namesake. Narcissus, who knelt at the water's edge and looked so fondly upon his own reflection that Aphrodite cursed him for it.

A warning to us all: one ought not think too highly of oneself, lest it end in ruin.

As for your postscript, Hedone, the eagle owl who delivers my missives, is indeed mine own. My grandmother bestowed her upon me when I was eleven years old, and I hold a great affection for her; Malfoy Manor does have a small owlery, but it hosts a small cabal of tawny owls. They are well-bred and intelligent animals, thought they do not match Hedone in their affection for the human soul, nor indeed Hedone's own impressive brainpower.

While we lack more than a modest group of owls, however, there are several birds upon our grounds. In recent years I have begun breeding white peacocks. They are delightful birds: arrogant and prideful, and yet their beauty is without match, as is their fearsome capacity for affection. Pheasants breed freely in the woods upon the grounds, as do guinea fowl and grouse, and I have often felt an affinity for the avian growing up alongside such simple, tame birds.

Before I sign this missive, I would apologize for my harsh words at its beginning. My temper was hot from the forge, and in the meantime I have taken a walk to calm my raging spirits: I reread that which I have written with regret, and yet not so much that I might burn this parchment and start anew. We ought be honest with one another, it seems to me, and that includes our tempers and our calms alike.

Tell me of your studies, Narcissa – I should be glad to hear of them.

With my love and flowery affection,  
Lucius A. Malfoy

✉ ✉ **ON HEDONE'S SWIFT WINGS** ✉ ✉

September 9th, 1971  
Hogwarts Castle,  
Hogsmeade

Dear Lucius,

What joy your last epistle brought me, as no harsh word has ever before brought joy upon a girl.

I will confess a misgiving to you, my betrothed: I thought you, at once, the stiff mannequin that is so oft produced of good, aristocratic stock. Dozens of dancing partners at one gala or another have proved to be little more than puppets enchanted to speak, with little original thought of their own. I offer thanks for your first few paragraphs, for even as they charred the page, they assured me of your unique personhood.

The Blacks are not as the Malfoys are.

We are Noble and Ancient, that is to be agreed, but fury runs hot in our blood, and often I feel I am angry at nothing at all, or at everything at once. It is however worse in my sister, Bellatrix. The Malfoys easily form a façade of simple calm, as distant as the marbles of the Athenian Parthenon, and this I might admire… And one day, I hope, replicate in my own features.

As I write this letter, Hedone sits at my elbow. She grooms my hair, you know, as I imagine a mother owl might look after a hatchling, and I fear your attitude toward me has affected her one way or another: she bit me upon my finger when I called you a scoundrel, and look! A drop of my blood upon the page, as proof.

My studies go well, thus far. I am glad to devote myself to my N.E.W.T.s, as no longer will I be forced to study Transfiguration, a subject with which I have battled (unsuccessfully!) for so long, nor History of Magic, which bores me with its focus upon pedantry. I have selected for my two years' study six courses, although I know my hours will be taxed by the schedule: Charms, Literature, Potions, Alchemy, French and Defence Against The Dark Arts.

You know, Anita Clement tells me Professor Alphonse is to retire next year, and I know not whether they will be able to replace him. I have faith in my own abilities in the language, that I might complete a N.E.W.T. exam even without his tutelage, but to imagine a future child of mine attending Hogwarts and lacking the opportunities I myself have… The thought greatly saddens me, I confess.

The corridors are heady with thought: the war began last December with that fracas down in Cornwall, and yet only now do I feel its weight amongst the students, the friction which it causes. It seems to me that as I look across the first and second years – so young as they are! – I see a host of soldiers to be, or corpses yet to be interred.

I spoke to Severus Snape this day past – last year, you had taken him under your wing, had you not? It seemed that at every moment in Slytherin spaces he was at your side, as a stain of black ink, and I had thought he might bestow praise upon your shoulders. Imagine my surprise when he claimed to barely know you, and asked politely if I truly had need of his presence.

A funny young boy, though I fear without your protection he is made a victim of by his Gryffindor nemeses. Does young Severus Snape write you, Lucius? He seems ever to be writing or reading something – if not letters, I know not what.

Here I shall leave you: I am in the Great Hall, and I see my young cousin approaching with a rage in his eyes, and your Hedone is anxious to go. Be well, Lucius, and in answer to your question… You might think of my happiness when it suits you, then, but only in the hours between midnight and dawn. I shall leave you to wonder as to why.

With affection,  
Narcissa Black


End file.
